


Epochs Unblemished

by partingxshot



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-05
Updated: 2011-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:37:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partingxshot/pseuds/partingxshot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Round 2 entry for Team Kanaya<3Rose in the Shipping Olympics.</p><p>“Humans all age at exactly the same rate. There is no sudden onset of puberty that screws everything up and leaves some of them in the dust while the others rocket to adulthood.” She smiles, but her teeth glint in the firelight as she bites her lower lip. “They can grow old together.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epochs Unblemished

**Author's Note:**

> There is beautiful [art](http://lesbiaaans.tumblr.com/post/9797971406/thing-i-did-for-hso-round-2-to-go-with-sarahs) to go with this fic, drawn by the lovely June!

“It’s interesting to think about," Aradia says. Sparks jump from the stones she strikes together and ignite easily on the strange brush. No one could find any trees to burn; those are few and far-between and they take what they can get, even if the leaves are tough and an odd lurid sap clots around each stem. They huddle around the flames, distinctly aware that there isn’t enough fuel to keep burning through the night. Day will come, and they will retreat under the low cliff overhang, bodies pressed close together as they shrink away from the light. The sun isn’t as terrible here as the ferocious rays on Alternia, but it stings and sears and Kanaya doesn’t want to expose the others to more pain. It will only get warmer each year.

“Humans all age at exactly the same rate. There is no sudden onset of puberty that screws everything up and leaves some of them in the dust while the others rocket to adulthood.” She smiles, but her teeth glint in the firelight as she bites her lower lip. “They can grow old together.”

Kanaya stands and stretches. Two pairs of eyes shine at her in the dark, yellow and black and shot through with more blood coloring every day. The other pair watches her blindly.

“Are you sure you won’t stay another night?” she asks, looking at Aradia closely.

She shakes her head, lashes lowered. “I need to get Sollux, now that you’re settled. And make sure the humans stay safe.” The bright reds of her outfit glint fiercely, and her wings gather the warm light.

Kanaya remembers the legend of a terrible demoness weaving through time to alter the course of civilization from its genesis. She stirs the fire with a knobby stick of bizarre texture, too flimsy and damp for any other use. The others watch her like there’s a chance she has any idea what the hell she’s doing.

She’ll take the first watch.

 

The light of the Green Sun is intense enough to burn as it refracts off of her glittering skin. Rose has to squint to look at her, and Kanaya feels the urge to apologize.

They float in dead space, sixteen all together, both the deceased and the living. They watch a universe tear itself apart.

Around them the Ring is whistling like light speed, and the color is ripping from Rose’s face (her clothes, her hair) like she’s being drained, spiraling away into some metaphysical black hole in the middle of a quasi-dimension that Kanaya hopes to God someone understands. John stares at his hand, bewildered, as pieces of himself speed out and away towards a brand new Earth. Jade grabs onto Dave’s hand.

“I once preserved my memories exactly like this, in a doomed timeline,” Rose shouts, like she can’t hear her own voice. “I fell asleep.”

“But Rose-”

“Kanaya,” she says, and there is something damning in her smile. “We did what we meant to. There is nowhere else to go.”

“We’ll follow you!” she shouts back, and feels her insides draining, leaving her frozen with panic. They have thrown themselves over the precipice and she is grasping emptily at the air. “I’ll come with you, there’s still time-”

Hands clutch at her face; lips smash against hers in desperation. Rose kisses her like she’s dying. For all they know, she might as well be.

When Rose draws back, Kanaya watches the last golden bits fly out of her hair. The lines of her empty face start to crumble, falling in on themselves in a nightmare display as the touch of her fingers becomes insubstantial.

The Scratch takes her away to begin again.

Kanaya is left alone after her first kiss, her friends lined up solemnly behind her.

 

“That’s it?” Karkat asks incredulously, staring down at the skinny dead animal Terezi drops in front of the fire.

“It’s all I could get,” she says, lips twisted ruefully. “Whatever it is it moved in packs, with way too many to survive on the vegetation around here.”

“What, has natural selection not rid this planet of the completely retarded species yet?” He prods it in disgust, then pinches the skin of its foreleg. “Fuck natural selection. Jegus, if there were any less meat here it would count as a vegan entrée.”

“Karkat, those were a lot of illogical things you just said.” Kanaya tries to coax the fire a little higher for cooking purposes. “It’s just that the ecosystem isn’t meant to support us at this point. We’ll have to make do, or start fixing things ourselves.”

“Fix an entire planet? That’s maggots.”

“I meant that we could begin to grow our own food, or attempt some sort of irrigation. We have a little grist–”

“Kanaya,” Karkat says, and sits down heavily at her side. “This was a terrible idea.”

“I know,” she replies. They sit silently for a moment while Terezi begins cutting the beast open, knife too quickly hitting bone.

“Knowing you, you regret it even less than I do,” he grumbles, and she smiles just slightly.

 

She finds her again in the Land of Strings and Sunshine.

The planet is terribly reminiscent of Rose’s, strong light streaming down onto glaring white islands. The chief difference lies in the matrix that seems to connect each piece of land; the ice cream-pink towers spawn sharp, steel strings that glint rainbow colors on the water. In some places she has to hack away with her chainsaw to clear a path through the air. Several times she is cut deeply by threads she can’t even see. Instead of sand, each shore is filled with snow. The rivers run darker, like red and purple wine.

Kanaya sees her speeding over the waves, arm extended, and her chest seizes right up.

Even as the name leaves her lips she knows that this is not who she is looking for. The angles of her face are similar, with some of the same mystery running tight around her eyes, but her chin is the wrong shape and her smirk entirely too airy. When she adjusts her course to land, Kanaya wants to tell her not to bother.

“So you’re one of the infamous trolls I’ve heard so much about,” the girl says, feet sinking into the snow, and it almost _hurts_ because all of the dangerous barbs are hidden too carefully in teacup-chipper tones. She wears lighter colors, too much pink to be genuine. Kanaya can’t believe that she could have possibly mistaken this imposter for Rose.

Her hand clenches around the tube of lipstick in her pocket. She swallows down her protests and asks, “Where can I find your guardian?”

The game gets complicated, and she doesn’t _really_ find Rose until she’s cycled through to the Land of Acid and Blaze. As she draws closer she finds it harder and harder to breathe (not just because of the smoke thick on the air) and when she finally sees over the blackened crest her lungs stop working altogether.

Her wands swish back and forth like conducting batons as imps explode around her. Her hair has grown to her shoulders, and she moves with more grace and purpose than should be possible from someone standing ankle-deep in green goo, purple destruction springing from each hand. Her skirt is long and trailing and magnificent, curled up by some unearthly power to avoid mucking the edges, and there is quiet malice in her smile. She looks like a character out of the novels Kanaya used to snuggle up with in her hive, but with more sharp edges.

The battle clears. Kanaya suddenly feels very small and out of place.

Rose seems to have stretched straight upwards, barely developing the curves of her guardian (daughter?), and her face is longer and even more alien than it had seemed before, and she is so astoundingly beautiful that all Kanaya can do is start running again like the child she is, scrambling down the crumbling slope as chunks of charcoal fall around her.

 _“Rose!”_ she calls (it feels like her voice is hoarse from calling), and the woman raises a wand.

“Rose, I-” she stumbles to a stop and raises her hands. She has to look too far upward to make eye contact. “I’m not sure of the mechanics of the Scratch, or how successful your attempts to preserve your consciousness were, or if you will need reminding or have lost certain segments of your memory forever.” She speaks too quickly, but she can’t stop herself. “But really the only thing I’d like to know is if you remember who I am, and if perhaps you could lower your weapon.”

Rose raises an eyebrow as she complies, all quick, elegant motions that speak volumes. Kanaya looks up at her face, trying so hard to tell herself that she doesn’t expect anything.

“I’m sorry,” Rose says, “I don’t recall.”

 

By the time Aradia comes backwards with Sollux, the rest have built a hive. It’s tucked into the rock wall, far enough from the shallow river that they can avoid the more annoying predators. Their lawn ring is greener by far than the rest of the surrounding area, possibly the planet, and they grow crops that might even be considered of nutritional value. Kanaya is in charge of the gardening, and Karkat has been trying to wrangle up some of the less threatening creatures to create a flock. It wouldn’t be enough or the right kind of food to support a human’s needs, and the sun is still too cold and distant for creatures used to being bathed in light, but trolls can struggle on.

“This should be about right,” Aradia says worriedly. “I did my best to compensate for our different lifespans, but some things are hard to calculate.” She glances unsubtly at Karkat, who crossess his arms with a defensive snarl.

“Look, I’m fine. I’m a mutant freak who’s growing as slow as Kanaya.” That’s not quite true, but Kanaya doesn’t call him on it. They have both nearly reached maturity.

She feels a rising excitement that she has suppressed for a long time.

 

TT: I remember certain things about the old Earth, but only with prompting.  
TT: After our first conversation, I saw my daughter and recalled playing in the snow.  
GA: Yes I Remember That Too  
GA: I Mean I Remember You  
GA: Doing That  
TT: Which in the context of the current Earth is utterly ridiculous, because only the suicidal would purposefully expose themselves to the Yeti and the Snowmen.  
TT: As well as the rest of the array of life-threatening creatures that apparently never existed before a rash decision on our part.  
GA: Well Rash Isnt Quite The Right Term I Think  
TT: Could enough consideration possibly exist in this world to sufficiently grapple with the repercussions of rewriting a universe? Of course _I_ of all people would be an exemplary participant in this decision-making process. It was all very civil, I’m sure.  
GA: Somehow Even Your Self-Deprecation Comes Across As Condescending  
TT: I also remember you, in flashes.  
TT: Just small pieces. Something about a scarf, or a bit of creative dialog.  
TT: Meeting you in a strange, floating world that I can only assume is the Ring.  
TT: Once I thought I remembered saying goodbye, but I’ve lost it now.  
TT: Kanaya?  
GA: You Should Be Helping Your Daughter

\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling tacticalTerminologist [TT] \--

 

John’s granddaughter opens the door.

Light pours out, blinding the eclectic array of trolls and humans of all ages that stand before the threshold as they look out into a new universe. They all hold hands. Recognition explodes across Rose’s bruised face and Kanaya’s heart leaps into her mouth; she has been watching her expressions so closely.

As she steps through it feels like falling, except there is no question where she will land. She will survive, _has_ survived, has obtained the ultimate reward and will descend like a shooting star into a world primed for life and civilization. They will begin anew.

She rushes past stars and stars.

 

Rose’s legs are long and graceful, dangling above the water. She perches primly on a large mossy boulder, just before a trickling waterfall. “This enclosure is beautiful, but unfortunately it reminds me a bit too much of my old house, hence my refusal to build here.”

Kanaya stands before her, knee-deep and sloshing in the water. “Your paradise planet is incredible,” she says. “I couldn’t imagine anything better.” They both sense the lie. Heat prickles against the back of her neck.

Rose uncrosses her legs. “Your skin is lovely in this light,” she says softly, and raises a hand to fix her own bangs.

Kanaya lunges forward to catch it, overbalancing awkwardly and splashing Rose’s heavy skirt. She squeezes too tightly. “Rose, I want you to know that–”

“You’ve always rambled,” Rose says, and almost smiles. Kanaya’s heart beats in quick time.

“You…remember?” The words are heavy with wonder and cautious hope.

It’s written in Rose’s face, more brilliant and shining than ever before, like it’s fallen from the sky with the rest of them. There isn’t any doubt anymore, and Kanaya could sing for joy–

But there is too much pity and regret traced in those thin dark lips. Kanaya sees how clumsy and childish her hands look next to Rose’s elegant fingers.

Rose can slay demons and hoodwink the gods, but Rose cannot wait for her. She will age so quickly; even now small wrinkles hide between her knuckles.

Kanaya closes her mouth and feels a shudder rock her, traveling from the chill water up through her neck and behind her eyelids, leaking out to spill down her cheeks. She shivers, draws one hand away to wipe furiously at her face.

She feels so terribly young.

Rose doesn’t speak, but her hand clenches.

“I’m sorry,” Kanaya says. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please,” she hears, too soft, and for a long time she can’t make herself look up to see Rose’s face. She feels a tremor run between their skins.

Finally she raises her chin, defiant. Rose is watching her, wide-eyed and almost young herself.

“Listen to me very carefully, Rose,” (her voice breaks, but she pushes harder, staring her down like she’s slaying monsters), “I _will_ come back. I don’t care how long it takes; I’ll come back and we’ll finish things the way we should have before you decided to become abysmally impulsive and ruin absolutely everything and then deigned to handily forget everything important for an age and a half.”

She starts to pull her hand away, then thinks better of it.

“Do you believe me?”

“Are you giving me reason to?” Rose says, but she looks so incredulous and shaken that Kanaya can’t make out any hope around the edges.

“Yes,” she gasps, halfway to a sob. She leans down to brush a wet kiss against Rose’s knuckles. When she finally pulls back she scrunches her eyes shut against the rest of the tears.

“I _will_ see you tomorrow,” she says with finality, and turns away.

 

Rose sees Kanaya the next day.

Kanaya doesn’t see Rose for a hundred years.

Aradia takes them backwards. They fight and they struggle, in an ecosystem not yet meant for civilized life, because it’s worth it and it will never stop _being_ worth it. She wanted to go alone, but Karkat wouldn’t let her; the others were quick to follow. Each of them had a reason, be it a stupid human they wanted to live out their adult lives with or a friend they didn’t want to leave. They couldn’t let go if they tried.

So they carry on, watching the sun brighten and the planets turn.

Aradia guessed right about Sollux; the two of them grow from the later point in the timeline she placed them until when they finally, _finally_ see the lights raining down through the star-swirled sky they’re in almost the same stage of development as everyone else.

They all follow the stars to their landing points, but avoid coming too close. When their past selves go back in time to begin the cycle, Aradia says she hears a ringing sound in her ears.

 

One hundred years she has waited. Kanaya doesn’t know how to begin.

Her horns have grown longer, her arms more muscled. Her cheekbones are more cut-glass defined than ever, and she is just barely taller than Rose. She is wearing a dress of her own making, blue and buttercup yellow and made of everything she loves about this world. She has been embroidering it for a very long time.

“Hello,” she says, standing in front of Rose’s makeshift hive like a prodigal come home. Rose looks at her with something like shock, resting her hand on the doorframe.

Kanaya’s lips are still parted, but the words she wants to say don’t come, because suddenly everything is _tremendous_ and on the verge of breaking. Her legs feel weak beneath her.

“I believe I made you a promise,” she chokes as her vision wavers.

Rose nods, still incoherent, and breathes deeply. “I…yes.” Warm sunlight glints off her hair.

Kanaya raises her arms awkwardly, almost afraid. Rose extends one hand to meet her, and their fingers touch in the middle; Kanaya wraps Rose’s hand in hers and raises the knuckles to her lips.

Rose’s own lips have gone white. “I believe,” she says, her eyes starting to swim, “I believe this is the part where I slapdashedly offer you a cup of terrible coffee to cover our gawking hides.”

Kanaya’s smile breaks into radiance as she practically flings herself into Rose’s arms.


End file.
